Secrets
by Beena-Pani
Summary: [Slash. SBRL. Complete.] It's in Remus Lupin's nature to be secretive— he's never been too fond of the truth.


Secrets 

**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything but the fic.

**Genre:** Angst/Romance

**Rating:** PG-13 for language (Gasp!) and attempts at suicide

**Pairing:** Unrequited (Gasp again!) Remus/Sirius

**Summary:** It's in Remus Lupin's nature to be secretive— he's never been too fond of the truth.

**Warning:** This contains slash. As in, homosexuality. Don't like it, don't read it.

_Notes_: I don't know what made me write this. Well, actually, I do. It was listening to a whole lot of Sarah McLachlan, and every time I heard 'Stupid', this prodded me, saying 'When are you going to write me, huh?' There will be no sequels, prequels, or anything like that. Totally, hopelessly depressing isn't my style. I'm a 'happily ever after' enthusiast.

* * *

_It's not my fault that I'm keeping this secret_, I tell myself again and again. _This is different than before_.

And it is. It's so fucking _wrong_ to be in love with you. There isn't a day where I wonder why it had to be you. Why not a girl? Why couldn't I just be like everyone else for once in my life? Who decided that _I_ need to be taught a lesson, to be treated like dirt, that my existence should be as miserable as possible?

Maybe it would have been different if it weren't for that lesson we had on werewolves.

"_Werewolves mate for life. Tying yourself to one would mean lowering yourself to their level, and there would be no way to take it back._" Those words just keep ringing over and over in my head.

It's enough to make me nauseous, but my stomach refuses to give up my dinner. At least vomiting it up would put an end to the sick feeling, but I can't, like I'm being punished for what you make me feel every time you enter the room.

"_Remember this if you ever meet a werewolf: they are half-breeds. There have been cases of people who get illegally married to werewolves, but that is the same as marrying an animal. Half-breeds lose their humanity as soon as they are bitten. Do not be fooled into thinking that they are human all but one night of the month. No werewolf is equal to a human._"

I know, I know, you're always promising me that it doesn't matter what I am. It doesn't matter at all, because we'll always be friends, but what good is that promise when you believe those words I keep hearing in my head, over and over again?

It starts off with James or Peter asking you how a date went, and you'll tell them with that stupid smirk on your face that makes me weak in the knees, but then you'll look over at me and start stumbling and stuttering, because you believe beyond a doubt that no one will ever love me because of what I am.

That's why I'm staring at the white tiles on the bathroom floor, watching blood and tears mix and stain them a rusty colour. I laugh bitterly, because I've beaten Misery at its own game. It thinks I'll just keep on loving you forever, hurting myself forever, but I won't. I'll end it now, right now, and then I'll be free and you'll never, ever have to know the truth.

The knife I kept in my pocket after dinner is lying next to the ever-growing pool of crimson that contrasts with the pristine white of the tiles. _Nothing ever has been pristine, perfect, pure_, I'm thinking with the predecessor of a grim smile on my face. _I'm just showing how things really are._

You, Peter, and James think I'm in the dorm studying while you turn somebody's cat green. Maybe you'll glance at the Map while you return to the common room, maybe you'll see me here, and maybe ten minutes later you'll see that I haven't moved and you'll worry, if I'm lucky. That's what I'm thinking about, with my eyes closed and my back against the bathroom wall. That's all I think about for a few minutes, and then you're here.

"I guess I'm lucky," I whisper to myself as you call my name. You stop dead in your tracks when you swing the stall door open and see me lying there, smirking at Misery. Your beautiful, grey eyes stray to the bloodstained tiles and you look like you're going to scream, but you can't seem to find your voice.

Before I realize it, I'm crying and crying, because even this close to death, I love you more than I ever have before. You don't know why I'm crying, and I just have to tell you, even if I don't want to, because the words are fighting to get past my lips.

"I have to tell you a secret," I want to say, but it comes out like a whisper, weak and strained.

"Remus, we have to—"

"Don't talk. I have to tell you something now." You look frightened, and your eyes are wide, and your mouth is hanging open. Despite this, you take a step closer and kneel in front of me, trying to keep your eyes from straying to the bloody knife.

"I... I'm..." The word isn't coming up now, even though it's been shouting for attention up until now. After a moment of searching for it, I find it, and it just let it out into the open. "I'm gay."

There are tears running down your cheeks and you look shocked for a moment. You're frozen there, trying to figure out if I really said what you think I said, and then finally you say, "That's okay, Remus, that's okay. There's nothing wrong with that. You could've just told us... That's no reason to—"

"It's you," I whisper, and it's even harder to talk now. You become blurry, even though I wish I could just see you one more time.

"What—"

"It's you," I say again, and it comes out stronger. "I love _you_."

"Oh, Remus," you say and wrap your arms around me. Just for a fleeting moment, I think that maybe you love me back, that all this time I was wrong, but then, "I'm so sorry. It's probably just a crush that'll pass, but that's no... no reason to.." You can't even finish the sentence, so you just wrap my torn wrists in toilet paper, even though I don't want you to. "I'm so sorry," you start saying, and then you're crying and I hate the fact that I still love you.

"I knew you didn't," I say, and there's that awful, awful smile on my lips, like it's all a big joke, just something to laugh about.

"I wish I did, just so you wouldn't... I mean, it's awful that you'd do this just because of me," you say and you're trying to smile now, too. "I'm just a stupid git. What good can I do for you?"

"I know," I manage to say just before James and Peter come running through the door. "But I can't help it."

"Hey, guys, what's going—"

And I black out before James can finish his sentence.

When I wake up, I'm in the Hospital Wing, and you're holding my hand, your eyes dead, but still beautiful.

"I'm sorry," you say, and I can see Misery out of the corner of my eye, laughing so hard it's in tears.


End file.
